


Sleep on the Floor

by Biggersteinkins



Category: IT (2017), IT (2019), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, IT Chapter 2 Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bottom Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Lives, Eventual Smut, Fix-It, M/M, Pining, Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Slow Burn, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, major spoilers for It Chapter 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2020-10-20 23:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20684099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biggersteinkins/pseuds/Biggersteinkins
Summary: Eddie lives. Richie has made peace with him not being a major part of his life moving forward, content with the knowledge that he saved Eddie from being killed by It. I mean, they'd already lost 27 years, let old dogs lie...or some shit like that. That is until Eddie shows up in Richie's apartment one night in need of a place to stay and decisions have to be made - it isn't exactly like Richie can just put his comedy tour on hold.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my g/f Ellen, who, like me, just want Eddie and Richie to live happily ever after together. (and have copious amounts of sexy sex *obvs) 
> 
> I'll be updating regularly throughout the week :)

The cave was suddenly so bright that Richie was certain his eyeballs had just melted out of his damn skull à la _Raiders of the Lost Ark_, which would explain why now nothing but darkness seemed to stretch out around him. One minute he had been about to deliver the beat down of the century on that fucking clown, and now there wasn’t much more he could do than hang motionless in the void.

_Maybe I’m dead_, he thought somewhat optimistically; the idea of being chewed up and eaten alive by that goddamn thing - by It - sure ranked near the bottom of his bucket list. It would be rather nice if he managed to skip the part where he felt that happen and went straight on to...well wherever this was.

He wondered if he would get to see his parents again or maybe that one really cool turtle he helped across the road as a kid. Unless of course turtles went somewhere else when they died, which was possible. He never was much into theology, and definitely wasn't up to date on reptile afterlife discussions.

Just as Richie was beginning to warm up to the aspect of drifting mindlessly for all eternity a head splitting roar of static filled his ears. With a blinding flash the lights were back, brought on by three glowing orbs which writhed and twisted just out of his reach; had he been able to lift his arms anyway.

Violent scenes of death and dismemberment sprang into existence all around him, and without the ability to move, much less shut his eyes, Richie could only watch as one after the other the Losers died; each in a way more terrible than the last. If he could have thrown up, he would have.

_Maybe I’m dead_, he thought again, _and this is hell…_ Moisture slid down his cheeks and he wrenched his mouth open in a silent scream, desperate to warn the man with thick black hair now coming into focus. Rough stone dug into Richie’s back, but he couldn’t remember falling, his glasses were cracked but were functional enough that he could still make out the lean face which pressed in closer.

_Please…please, not him…_ Richie implored anyone who would listen, god, Santa, that weird guy he called "subway Jesus" who sometimes rode the Red Line with him.

In an instant his world took on a crimson tint and he tasted metal on his lips.

_"R-Richie? Richie!?"_

Choking on a sob, Richie jolted up in bed, long limbs caught in a tangle of sheets. It had been six months since the Losers parted ways in Derry, six months since he was treated to a grindhouse flick starring his closest friends; compliments of that paint-faced asshole. Heart pounding and drenched in sweat, Richie clawed his way out of bed and away from the nightmares.

It took knocking into the nightstand and launching his alarm clock to the floor for his senses to catch back up with him. This was home, not Derry, not a sewer or otherworldly cave, there were no monsters here. He was home and they were alive, Eddie…Eddie was alive.

With shaking hands, Richie placed the clock back in its place and stared at the display. He really was blind as shit. Did it say 2 or 3? Did it matter? The wet shirt he had been wearing quickly joined a pile of dirty clothes scattered across his room and he shivered in response before shuffling out, glasses in hand.

There was no way he was going right back to sleep after that. Not even a chance. No, tonight a little post-sleep nightcap was in order.

Somewhere, Richie figured, his therapist was shaking their head in disapproval.

Simultaneously walking and using the hem of his boxer shorts to wipe at a smudge on his lenses wasn’t graceful, but it wasn’t the reason he tripped and nearly fell upon entering the living room either.

Curses were flung with wild abandon, some more creative than others, as Richie stumbled across the room, hands out and swatting at the wall he eventually collided with.

_-thwack-_

"Fuck this fucking light switch!"

_-thwack-_

"Motherfucking wang waffle!"

_-thwack-_

"Where are you - ya dumb bitch!?"

By the third or fourth _thwack_ the lights were flipped on, momentarily blinding him. He rubbed his eyes furiously, angrily wishing he had considered lasik back when his insurance would have covered it.

“What the fuck, man?”

Richie froze, fumbling to shove his glasses on. Caught somewhere between fight and flight, he briefly swore that he was actually still dreaming. It wasn't like he had been fucking expecting the man who was currently squinting out from under a pile of overstuffed blankets to be camped out on his couch.

Six months earlier he had hugged the owner of those dark brown eyes goodbye. Two phone calls and one particularly raunchy postcard, involving a modestly sized cartoon woman whose oversized breasts jiggled on springs, later and that was that. Richie was fairly convinced they’d never see each other again. Or at least not until Ben and Bev finally stopped sucking face long enough to tie the knot and invited them all to the wedding.

They each had their own respective lives, hell Eddie was married for fucks sake, probably lived in a big ass house.

_With his big ass wife…_

He probably really enjoyed his job as the most boring man in the world, and really, they weren’t thirteen anymore.

Still, there was a large part of Richie that felt like shit for not doing more, or saying more, before driving away. So many memories and feelings had been recovered during their time back in Derry, but it had only served to highlight all the regret. All the shame. Not only with himself, but with his love for Eddie; the nameless longing which had nagged at the corners of his mind for the past 27 years had been suddenly thrust front and center.

It didn’t matter. The last thing he was going to do was bare his soul to the inconvenienced little shit weasel glaring at him.

“Oh, _I’m_ sorry - what the fuck?” Richie said. “What the fuck are you doing in here –

Eddie wriggled partially out of his comforter cocoon, “_You_ invited me,” he snapped.

“Well that’s a fucking lie – ”

“_No_, it isn’t!”

“_Yes_, it is –”

“How _the shit_ did you even get in?”

“You told me the spare key was always under the –”

“Yeah, in case of emergencies,” Richie groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, so _now_ you remember –”

“I was drunk off my ass when I told you about that –”

“You explicitly said –”

“That was just – just a fucking formality –”

“No take backs, asshole!”

“Fine!” Richie yelled, gesturing wildly at the monumental piles of suitcases and bags stacked around the room, including one particularly bulky orange number that was now tipped over from their earlier collision.

“Fine! I guess we’re – what are we doing? What is all this shit?”

“I’m getting a divorce,” Eddie told him matter-of-factly.

Richie blinked.

“And that’s your reasoning for what? For moving into my fucking apartment at 3am on a Tuesday?”

“I’m not moving in,” Eddie scoffed. “I just need a place to stay till everything gets sorted out.”

“Sure thing, Eds,” Richie exclaimed, on his way into the kitchen. “Now, I don’t want to startle you, but they make these itty-bitty handheld devices now called _cellphones_, might want to look into one sometime –”

“I’m aware, dipshit, and don’t call me Eds – ”

“Instead of, oh I don’t know, breaking into somebodies house.” Richie yelled from the kitchen, before returning with a glass of something strong enough to get him through this.

Eddie shot him a look. “I did. Like, nine times, idiot.”

_Fucknuggets, goddamn ‘do not disturb mode’_

Richie frowned. “Don’t you live several hours from here?”

“Five and a half,” Eddie told him, yawning. “And speaking of that, do you think we can call it a night already?”

“Oh, sure thing, _Eddie_, I don’t want to disturb your beauty sleep, you need all the help you can get.”

“Fuck you.”

Richie ignored him, opting instead to pound back the glass of what he liked to call his ‘sleepy time’ aid, which would at least allow him to explain away why his face felt so fucking hot right now.

“You can stay the night, but I’m leaving this weekend for my East Coast Tour,” he said, sitting the now empty cup down on the counter. “So, you’ll need to figure _all this_ out before then.”

Eddie said nothing, only nodding in response before shoving himself back down into the fuckton of blankets he’d emerged from.

For a moment Richie just stared at the indistinct mound of bedding, probably for a little too long, until a muffled "good night" was spoken and he returned the sentiment as he headed for his room, stopping only to bite back a smile when he heard Eddie’s stupid voice call to him from the down the hall.

“Don’t forget to brush your fucking teeth.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it was all just another wacky dream...I mean, why would Eddie be in his apartment of all places? 
> 
> Rather: Eddie is ready to get outta town and the perfect opportunity has presented itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to mention, I do realize that in the books (movies also?) Richie is living in LA - not New York. However, I am lazy and instead of figuring out how to get them both to the East Coast...I just put em there to start with. 
> 
> Please enjoy :p

_-rustle-_

Richie’s eyes cracked open. He was awake, unfortunately, but couldn’t figure out why.

_-rustle-_

Why was it so fucking bright in his room? Was it always this bright?

_-rustle rustle-_

Richie took a deep breath and yawned, propping himself up to look for the source of the noise. He paid way too much every month for this apartment to have shit like mice scuttling around.

It was Eddie; who from what Richie could tell seemed to be shoving several of his Hawaiian shirts into a trash bag.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Eddie appeared startled, although it was hard to say for sure – maybe he would invest in contacts – but the Eddie shaped figure began to shove more clothing into the bag with renewed vigor.

“Cleaning. Also, what the _hell_ is that smell? It’s like –”

“It’s probably just your dead sense of humor…” Richie said, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand.

Eddie wrinkled his nose, drawing his eyebrows together, looking both disgusted and deep in thought all at the same time, “More like mold and stale beer.”

“Well…” Richie scratched the stubble on his neck, eyeing an empty glass bottle on the far dresser.

“Holy shit, this is unsanitary, how many times have you worn these?” Eddie asked, holding up a pair of socks whose stained soles would have been visible glasses or not.

“Ugh, get out of my room!”

“Do you want antibiotic resistant foot fungus? Because this is how you get antibiotic resistant foot fungus –”

“What did I do to deserve this?” Richie grumbled, flinging himself back on the bed and covering his face with his arm.

Eddie yelped.

Richie moved his arm just in time to deflect his wet shirt from the night before, “_Oh my god_, Eddie, go away!”

The bed sagged when additional weight was suddenly added.

“No.” Eddie quipped. “Now I was thinking about what you said last night. You remember right? About getting ready to go on tour?”

Without waiting for Richie to respond, Eddie continued.

“I thought I would need to stay in the area until the firm I am transferring to reaches out” – he dropped the bag of dirty laundry – “oh I’m moving to the area by the way, and honestly they probably won’t even be in touch until later this month –”

The sweaty shirt collided perfectly with Eddie’s dumb face, and judging from the dramatic heaving noise he was making, Richie was pretty sure some of it got in his mouth.

“_Fuck_ you!” Eddie yelled, leaping up from the bed and tossing the shirt back into the floor, “You’re such a piece of shit!”

Richie needed to stop staring at Eddie’s mouth.

He swiped his phone off the nightstand and stumbled out of bed, pushing past the angry man occupying a space in the middle of his room, “Calm down, Eddie Spaghetti, no need to stroke.”

“Don’t toss your nasty fuckin clothes on me!”

“It’s just sweat – what was it you were trying to tell me?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up; switching gears so quickly it made Richie’s head hurt, “I’m coming with you.”

Richie made a face, “What?”

“I’m coming on tour with you – not to perform, obviously, it’ll be like a vacation.” Eddie clarified.

Eddie wanted to come with him.

The trip would take over a week at least, and now he was excitedly jabbering on about all the potential places they could go – suggesting they could visit Mike down in Key West.

Richie made a conscious effort to ignore the way his stomach flopped just a little at the prospect of going on vacation with him; the idea of sitting next to each other on a plane, of eating dinner together, taking in the sites, all the potential hotel rooms offered…

“No,” Richie blurted out, cutting Eddie off from his tangent. “That’s - yeah no that’s just a _terrible_ idea.”

“Okay.”

The thin-lipped stare Eddie was now directing his way was cold, like motherfucking sea ice cold – thank you Nat Geo – and despite the other man’s size and stature, Richie still felt a little uneasy when turning his back on him to walk to the bathroom.

Richie let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding once he was safely inside, and leaned back against the closed door.

There was absolutely no way he was taking Eddie with him.

But why not? It was just Eddie, for fucks sake. The same Eddie he had spent nearly every goddamn day with since the time they could both walk to the day that little turd left for college. The only difference now was they were both old as fuck and – and…

_And I’m gay_

Richie stared back at his reflection in the mirror, “You were gay then too jackass,” he mumbled while washing his hands. “Even if you didn’t want to admit it.”

The living room was empty when he finally emerged and he fell back on the couch with a dramatic sigh, letting the soft leather envelop him. It was the kind of couch which you might see for sale on craigslist, one rough ride away from a seam busting and the stuffing leaking out. The neighbors had watched when it was delivered. He loved his apartment, but the entitled assholes and their accompanying opinions could go fuck themselves.

Something wet in his hands pulled him from his reverie and Richie looked down to find a disinfectant cloth suddenly in his possession.

“Wipe your phone off,” Eddie stated in a way that suggested no argument would be tolerated. “I saw you take it in the bathroom.”

Without response Richie did as instructed, convincing himself that he was only doing so because that was easier than arguing with Eddie and not because the other man’s tone had set his pulse racing. “I looked into flight details,” he explained, leaning heavy on the nonchalance, “looks like I can get you a seat on the flight out Saturday, but we will be on separate connecting flights –”

“Oh, I don’t fly.”

_Of course you don’t…_

Richie took a deep breath, “Is it altitude shits?”

“What? No! I –”

“It’s altitude shits…”Richie nodded sympathetically.

“That’s not ugh – do you know the statistics behind air travel? The likelihood of survival in the event of an emergency –”

“If you won’t fly, how do you expect us to get to the fucking venues?” Richie threw the used disinfectant wipe in Eddie’s direction.

“By car obviously, dipshit.” Eddie snapped, using a clean wipe to pick up the first.

Richie couldn’t believe he was even considering this; trapped in a car for who knows how long with Eddie-fucking-hypochondriac-Kaspbrak? This would either be a hell of a trip _or_ Eddie was going to wind up shoved from a moving vehicle onto the side of I-95.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose before gathering the nerve to look up into those deep brown eyes. “Eddie, I swear to god, you better not make me regret this.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are on the road, things go about as well as can be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing against West Virginia or the to be mentioned motel - but I stayed at this place and further descriptions will be accurate to their condition when I had the pleasure of visiting in 2010.

Three hours on the road and things were already off to a _great_ start.

The kind of miles this “little” trip would take weren’t going on _his_ car, and so Richie had spent over an hour on the lot of a rental dealership arguing with Eddie over vehicles. It quickly became apparent that very few cars lived up to Eddie’s safety standards and Richie refused to settle on an SUV.

“If you’re making us drive down the coast, shit head, we’re doing it in style. Not in a fucking tank.”

“And you’d have us, what?” Eddie gestured wildly. “Doing eighty miles an hour on the interstate in a – a hot wheel!?”

The salesman was powerless to do much more than look on nervously between them.

In the end Richie got his way, he _was_ the one driving after all. But that wasn’t going to stop Eddie from bitching and moaning about every little thing; how fast they were driving, potholes, other cars, traffic lights…

Richie felt pretty sure a judge would be sympathetic to his case if Eddie wound up smothered.

Eddie fiddled with the radio, filling the car with some kind of pop country bullshit that had Richie cringing. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of the road beneath them as they barreled onward, they had left the towering city of Buffalo behind hours ago, the scenery taking on an almost meditative quality that only came with rural back roads.

“I guess I just don’t understand why you have to hand deliver this thing,” Richie said over the grating sound of some girl practically yodeling through the sound system. “I realize I’ve never been through anything like this, but I’m pretty sure this shit is usually handled by attorneys.”

Eddie didn’t say anything right away, his attention directed out the passenger window, “You ever think it’s weird that we lived within driving distance of each other but never knew it?"

“Not sure I consider Pittsburgh within driving distance.”

The music was suddenly silenced, cutting off the teenage girl's ravings of her _Romeo_ “throwing pebbles” at her mid chorus.

“I’m fuckin serious, how does that happen?” Eddie took a swig from his bottle of 'thrice purified magic unicorn tear spring water' crap.

In response Richie nearly drifted them into the other lane while watching his companion’s adams apple bob in his throat when he swallowed.

“Watch the road, dumbass!”

_If we make it to the motherfucking Keys, it’s gonna be a miracle_

“It’s not that weird, I mean up until a few months ago I didn’t even remember your dumb ass, you know, cause of the…_fucking clown_.” Richie grumbled the last words. That page in their lives was over and done, totally sealed shut. The last thing he wanted to do was have some sort of therapy session over the course of this trip.

“Yeah…” Eddie mumbled, staring back out the window, “That’s true.”

The little blue car weaved in and out of lanes, skirting the city limits as it detoured down first one perfectly manicured subdivision then another, before finally pulling up the freshly pressure washed driveway of the address Eddie had provided.

Richie put the car in park and settled back into his seat.

A beat passed and he started drumming on the steering wheel.

“So ah,” he unbuckled his seatbelt and faced Eddie, who was staring straight ahead with a look of wide-eyed panic. “You still want to do this?”

“Uh huh.”

Nodding, Richie sat back again. “Will you…be doing it _today?_”

The lack of snarky comeback spoke volumes.

“Hey,” he playfully nudged Eddie’s arm. “Want me to walk up with you?”

“Please…” Eddie whispered.

Richie felt bad for him; Eddie had always been tougher than he looked, and acted, but right now as they approached the cookie cutter house, with its bland front lawn dotted with only the finest in HOA approved décor, he was visibly shaking.

Scratch that thought, Richie didn’t feel bad – he was pissed. Whoever – _or whatever_ – was waiting for them on the other side of the extra wide solid oak door they were now standing in front of was the reason Eddie seemed to have turned several shades paler. He straightened his glasses, overwhelmed with the desire to protect Eddie and the relief that he had the opportunity to do so.

Of course, all that aside it still didn’t change the fact that before they could even decide who would be the one to knock, the door swung open, and Richie effectively lost his shit.

“Holy shit, Eds!” Richie guffawed, “Is that your mom?”

Everything happened pretty fast after that. He almost didn’t catch when the soon-to-be ex Mrs. Kaspbrak screeched, “Is this him – is this the guy!?” and pulled back her fist, or feel when Eddie slugged him in arm, before he saw spots and found himself falling ass backward into some carefully trimmed hedges.

~-~

So far, Richie had to admit, wincing when Eddie pressed a napkin wrapped ice cube against his jaw, the day had been less than stellar.

Their earlier escape was probably a bit more dramatic in Richie’s mind than it had been in reality, but regardless the deed was done. The signed notice had been provided – or thrown in the general fucking direction – of a one Mrs. Myra Kaspbrak before Eddie had yanked him from the bushes with something resembling inhuman strength and ushered him back to the safety of the car.

The road rolled out in front of them, cutting a path through trees and looming mountains that had begun to shade the sun from view.

“How’s your face?” Eddie inquired with a hint of sarcasm.

Richie snorted, “It’s great. Hey, can you answer something for me?”

“Okay…”

“When did Pennsylvania legalize interspecies marriage?”

“Wha – you know what, man – _Fuck_ YOU.”

“I’m just saying,” Richie rubbed tenderly at the side of his face. “That you might not even have to file for divorce – hey! I’m driving!” He laughed when Eddie made a move to hit him again. “You can probably just return her to whatever zoo she escaped from.”

One hour turned to three and the sun had long since slipped below the horizon, leaving them with only as much light as their headlights were providing to navigate with.

Eddie yawned and wiggled around in his seat, “Rich, where the hell are we?”

“Fuck if I know, you’re ‘sposed to be navigating.” Richie yawned in response.

The screen of Eddie’s phone lit up his corner of the car, illuminating his features in a way that threatened to fully divert Richie’s gaze from the road again.

“Well? Where’s our next turnoff?”

“I don’t have signal –”

“Ugh, use mine.” The phone was hurriedly unlocked and passed over.

“You don’t have signal either.”

“Fuck.”

“I told you we needed to bring a physical map –”

“Nobody uses actual maps anymore, Christopher fucking Columbus.” Richie yawned again, “We’ll stop at the next hotel and crash there tonight.”

“But what about the Chestnut Ridge?” Eddie practically whined, moving around again.

The woods opened up, revealing a truck stop and adjoining building. The neon sign blinked “VACANCY” beneath the words "Family Inn". Richie slowed the car down, pulling into a parking-lot that had surpassed disrepair into a condition more frequently reserved for abandoned buildings.

“Here?” Eddie asked, incredulously.

Richie took a deep breath. “Eddie, Edward, my dear Eduardo, I have no earthly idea how the fuck to even _get_ to the Chestnut Ridge tonight, much less how much further we’d have to drive to do so. I’m tired, my face hurts, so yes, we are staying _here_.”

In the flickering yellow light of the truck stop they could both clearly see a woman wandering the lot, pausing periodically to speak with patrons of the establishment.

“Oh look,” Richie quipped. “A hooker.”

Eddie tutted. “The correct term is sex worker, you dick.”

“Don’t be a prude, Eds. This could be your opportunity to finally get laid.”

“_Finally?_ I’ve been married for over twenty years! -”

“Your point?”

“I - don’t call me Eds!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night at the Family Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for any typos - I don't have a BETA and am performing all proofreading myself, then making corrections as noticed from future reads: Chapters 1-3 have had minor edits to improve the flow and correct typos.
> 
> Also - I may not get a new chapter up until Wednesday of next week due to work. But I will do my damndest to have one up sooner. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the love and support!!!

It took more than a little convincing to get Eddie to even exit the car; travel hand sanitizer in tow. They had fought eldritch monstrosities and lived to talk about it, but apparently the door handle to the – Richie pushed his glasses up – Family Inn, was what really set ole Eds on edge.

The two men hurried through the busy lot towards the entrance, and Richie was still jostling Eddie playfully when they entered the lobby.

“This place is seedy; I do not feel comfortable staying here.” Eddie hissed, shoving Richie away.

“It’s old, sure. But what’s seedy about it?”

Eddie looked pointedly from him to the woman still wandering around outside before gesturing to the entirety of the building.

“Pff, don’t get your panties in a bunch. She’s probably just lost like us and looking for a ride.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes with a look that suggested he didn’t believe any of that shit, but said nothing.

The man seated at the front desk smelled of stale cologne and cigarettes, and greeted them in a gruff sort of way. It was dingy, dark and cheap. _Seedy_. Richie suspected there would be no chocolates on their pillows or ‘turn down service’ at this particular place of business.

They learned they were somewhere in West Virginia, and not too terribly off track from their original route. A quick check proved they were still out of luck in the cell service department, though. In response, Eddie produced a napkin from his pocket which he used to pluck out a free map from the nearby stand.

The receptionist eyed them warily. “How many rooms?”

Richie glanced at Eddie. They had agreed to share rooms when multiple beds were available, but it still made his pulse skip a beat when he mumbled “uh, just one.”

The receptionist’s expression didn’t waiver. “How many beds?”

“Two.”

The man grunted in acknowledgement, “Hours?”

“Hours?” Richie frowned.

“That’s right, how many hours do you want the room fer.”

It took Richie a solid minute before he fully understood the connotation behind the request, his eyes widening with the sudden realization.

“Oh, oh shit no,” he laughed. “We’re lost and just need a room for the night – a full night.”

Payment was exchanged and physical metal keys were handed over, _how quaint_, but a skeptical look never left the receptionists face.

Back outside Eddie busied himself with unfolding the map and trying to pinpoint their coordinates, while Richie led them around the side of the building to their temporary lodgings.

As it turned out, the room wasn’t locked to begin with.

_Convenient!_

The door creaked inward, revealing a room whose furnishings may have been the same ones since the business opened its doors back in…oh, Richie would wager the nineteen fucking fifties.

The walls were covered in what appeared to be linoleum flooring, which had led to entire sections peeling back towards the interior of the room. Two twin beds rested on dirty shag carpeting, their sheets and blankets the only relatively clean looking surface.

“I’m not sleeping in here.” Eddie stated.

Richie entered the room, surveying the setup. “C’mon spaghetti man, it isn’t _that_ bad,” he turned the knob on a television so antiquated there didn’t seem to be buttons present. “Look, we can watch tv.” A loud _pop_ rang out and a wisp of smoke trailed out of the back of the old set. “Or not…”

Eddie just stared, those big dark eyes narrowed in what may have been an attempt to bore holes in his face.

“Whaddya say we go grab something to eat at the truck stop, we’ll both feel better after some food.”

There was some hesitation on Eddie’s part, but they were soon seated at a booth, staring out floor to ceiling windows on the unrelenting blackness of the night.

The one room diner smelled of fresh coffee and old hash browns. But that was fine with Richie, who was content enough to sit and sneak peeks in the window’s reflection of the man seated across from him. Tracing the gentle dip of his throat into the collar of his shirt, the pale scar on his cheek…

“Can I help you?”

Eddie’s voice startled Richie out of his daydream. “Just wondering if you stole all of your clothes from a dead golfer.”

“Shut up, sometimes I wear suits.”

“Nerd alert.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

The waitress came and went taking their orders and bringing out drinks.

“At least its clean in here –” Richie started, watching Eddie squirt a healthy blob of hand sanitizer into one hand, before forcing some into the palm of his own.

They had to wait on prepackaged straws before captain germaphobe would stop bitching about the dangers of drinking from non-disposable restaurant cups. Still, Richie found himself smiling and nodding along to the tangent, throwing in just enough “_oh’s_” and “_absolutely’s_” to earn himself a sharp kick under the table and another roll of those eyes.

Although Eddie spent the majority of their time at dinner picking at his food, he did finally relent that the fries had been pretty damn good as they walked back out into the cool night air.

Unsurprising to either of them, they watched the woman from earlier exit one of the rooms next to theirs.

“I guess she’s just asking for directions, huh?” Eddie sneered, walking past Richie to unlock their door.

Richie snorted.

“Cute couple.” The woman called out to them as she made her way towards an idling semi in the parking lot.

“Thanks, but –” Richie shouted before being quickly pulled inside.

They crashed together briefly, an awkward collision for any number of reasons which flashed through Richie’s mind. Since when did the ‘no homo’ crap take precedence? They used to share everything from hammocks to ice cream.

_Since I grew up and he married Myra the Hutt_

“Sorry,” Richie muttered, moving away to close the door.

Eddie didn’t say anything, but stood there looking through him. Caught up in his own mind it seemed.

“You doing okay?” Richie asked.

Eddie rubbed his face, and yawned. “Yeah…why wouldn’t I be?”

Richie shrugged, tossing down the dufflebag’s he had grabbed from the car.

“Just wanted to make sure, I mean…you did just serve your wife of,” Richie waved a hand dismissively, “However many years with divorce papers.”

Eddie met his gaze, “Yeah, I’m…I’m okay. I guess after going back to Derry I realized some things.”

“What sorts of things?”

There was a pause in the dialogue which felt heavy between them.

“That I had married the wrong person.”

“Oh.” It was all Richie could think to say at first, _oh_, because he was eloquent as fuck like that. A regular goddamn poet. “Instead of what, like your actual mom?”

“_Fuck_ you, asshole.” Eddie marched off to the bathroom. “Dibs on first shower.”

“You don’t have to make up lies so you can take a shit!”

Eddies hand extended past the door frame; a single finger extended in Richie’s general direction.

Now it was Richie’s turn to yawn. He collapsed back onto the creaky mattress, lulled half asleep by the sounds of water running and his attempt to not think about what Eddie had said.

_So, who’s the right person?_

Richie almost rolled off the bed when he heard the shout; one second he had been dozing off and the next he was watching Eddie rush to repack his bag through crooked glasses.

“Wh-what are you doing?” He croaked.

Eddie was pointing at something on his bed, beneath the displaced sheets. Richie squinted, rubbed his eyes, then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

It was a condom. A used condom, to be exact.

“At least they used protection.”

The look Eddie gave him made it hard for Richie not to burst out laughing, if for no other reason than how ridiculous the whole situation was. Eddie clad in outlandish silk pajamas and sneakers alternating between an almost unintelligible high-pitched rant and a string of profanities lobbed at the health department for the state.

“Calm down, Eddie.”

“_Calm down_? Calm down!? Do you see that? Can you even wrap your trashy little brain around all the different diseases you could catch from that? I told you before I am NOT sleeping in here!”

Richie yanked the covers back on his own bed, revealing nothing but drab looking linens.

“Here you can sleep in my bed, we can share –”

“Goodnight, Richie.” Eddie snapped, storming past him and out the door.

“C’mon, where the hell are you gonna sleep out there, dumbass?”

The car keys in Eddie’s hand glinted under the neon lights.

The door wobbled shut, its rusted hinges not good for much more than keeping it propped upright, definitely wouldn’t keep people out, that was for sure.

The shower was cramped and the water was lukewarm, but at least he was clean. He walked past the sink, climbed into bed, climbed back out of bed and went to brush his teeth.

Richie sighed, easing himself back down onto the bed. He was too old to be driving over seven hours a day. The room was plunged into darkness with the click of a lamp. It was so quiet, peaceful even. Poor Eddie was out there curled up like an idiot in a car. It brought a smile to his face. He was almost under when he remembered his phone wasn’t plugged in to charge.

The lamp clicked back on.

Beetles covered every square inch of the room; including the bed.

The drivers side door wrenched open and Richie scrambled inside, tossing his bag across onto the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him. From the backseat a smug looking Eddie lifted his head.

Richie laid the seat back, rolling onto his side.

“I don’t wanna hear it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie makes it to his first gig, then has the opportunity to go (on a date) out to dinner with his favorite asthmatic.

The crowd erupted in cheers. A low hum one minute and a deafening roar the next, rising in fervor as he jogged out on stage.

_Give it up for Richie Traaaaashmouth Tozier!_

Richie could feel his bangs already beginning to stick to the perspiration on his face; brought on by a mixture of stage lighting and his fucking nerves. Whoever coined the term ‘picture the crowd in their underwear’ was some kind of psycho. The idea that several thousand screaming people were sitting half naked just behind the shadow of the fluorescents was not one which brought _him_ any relief.

The microphone slipped easily into his palm, the weight providing him an outlet for what exactly he was supposed to do with his hands.

“So, first off, I’d like to make an announcement, my girlfriend and I are expecting…”

_I don’t write my own material_

“Ever since she got pregnant a lot has changed…like my name, address and telephone number…”

_I fucking knew it!_

~*~

A little blue car waited in the back alley of the auditorium, idling quietly in the dark. Richie had told Eddie more than once that he was quite capable of catching a damn cab – or getting an uber – but the little shit that he was wouldn’t hear it, going off instead on a rant about the dangers of city transit; especially for public figures or _celebrities_.

Richie couldn’t help but feel his ego was being intentionally stroked with that last bit.

“Hey,” Eddie said, waggling his phone at Richie when he opened the door. “I’m on speaker, so behave.”

“Or _what_?” Richie asked loudly, as he slid into the passenger seat. “You’ll spank me?”

Eddie stared pointedly back at him.

“Uh, hey Rich.” The familiar voice called out of the device in Eddie’s hand.

“Mike – how’s it going, man?”

“Not bad, not bad…was just talking with Eddie –”

The phone was quickly thrust into Richie’s hands, and they were pulling back out onto the busy street.

“Yeah, about that, if this isn’t a good time or something,” Richie watched the buildings pass by, he hoped Eddie knew where the hell he was going. “We can always get together another time –”

“Nah! This is great timing, I just closed on my condo and it’s right on the water…”

The details of Mike’s newfound tropical paradise were enthusiastically relayed to them, everything from Mike’s trip down from Maine, to the nice realtor he met, to his new favorite place to buy motherfucking sandals.

In the end it was Eddie who finally saved them by interrupting a particularly riveting story involving Mike, and a frozen yogurt cashier, who swapped him a vintage nickel by saying they were heading out to eat dinner.

“Catch you guys later!”

“Oh, you too!” Richie exclaimed, then mashed the _end-call_ button and slumped down in his seat. “Holy shit biscuits…”

The car slowed to a stop alongside the curb. Despite the hour, street lights illuminated pedestrians who were bustling in and out of the restaurants and shops dotting the surrounding plaza.

“We’re here.” Eddie stated, putting the car in park.

Richie nodded. “And where’s here?”

“Dinner, I told you we were going out to dinner tonight after your gig,” Eddie said, leaning into the backseat to grab a button up shirt. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“Good, then put this on,” Eddie told him, tossing the brightly patterned garment his way.

Richie scowled. “There’s nothing wrong with what I already have on –”

“You smell like a shitty dive bar.”

“What the _hell_ does that mean?”

“_It means_ you smell like sweat and desperation –”

“Funny,” Richie lifted an arm and dramatically sniffed. “That’s the same way I describe your mom.”

“Put the shirt on, _asshole!”_

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been shirtless in front of Eddie before, hell they used to run around in nothing but their tighty-whities for fucks sake. Still, he was appreciative when the other man busied himself with something on his phone while Richie unbuttoned and stripped out of the admittedly sweat soaked top he had been wearing.

Once dressed they made their way across the street.

The restaurant was nice, like really fucking nice, like the food probably comes out in portions so small and dainty Richie would need to raid a vending machine afterwards kind of nice.

The place was packed, as any snazzy tiny portion place should be. Without much to-do, the waiter showed them to their table; Eddie had made a reservation.

Richie trailed behind them, strolling past the other patrons in their suits and dresses. Many of whom paused what they were doing to take in an eyeful of the bright orange number he was wearing.

_Must be hard to sit, lady. With a stick so far up your ass_

“This place is pretty ritzy,” Richie remarked, picking up the menu when he sat down. “I wonder if they’ve got a dude in the bathroom who’ll hand me a mint after I take a –”

“Would you shut up!” Eddie hissed, peering over his own menu across the table.

Richie rolled his eyes, looking down at the paper in hand. There were no prices; never a good sign for his wallet.

They sat in silence until the waiter returned, taking orders for samplers and courses and wine. Well, bourbon for him. If Richie had been here, doing this, with anyone else, he would have thought he was on a date.

_A date, with Eddie, can you imagine?_

He could.

“Hello?”

Richie looked up from the fork he was ‘walking’ back and forth across the table. “What?”

“I said 'how was your show'?” Eddie asked, wiping the lip of his glass down with a napkin he produced from his pocket.

_Christ he’s anal_

Richie snorted, earning himself a look.

“It was great, a full house. Got to introduce some new material –”

“Any of your own?”

~*~

Impermeable darkness surrounded him on all sides, choking out the light and suffocating him in the process.

Richie wondered if maybe he was in fact dead.

And so, the familiar scenes played out, gruesome and disorienting, all racing towards the inevitable conclusion.

_Richie?_

_No_

_Richie!?_

_NO_

“Richie! Wake up!”

Big dark eyes stared down into his; so close they were clearly visible even in the dimly lit room.

He couldn’t let it happen again. He wouldn’t give that goddamn clown the satisfaction.

Without warning, Richie grabbed Eddie by his shoulders and rolled them out of harm’s way; directly off the bed and into the floor.

There was some scrambling, cursing, and a healthy dose of disoriented fumbling, but in the end, Richie found himself cradled within a pair of surprisingly strong arms. His head tucked against the shoulder of a man who smelled like his childhood; summer days and secret clubhouses.

Eddie had no right to smell that good, people only smell that good in the movies.

Richie was ultimately thankful that the dark hid the dark shade of red he felt he was turning and allowed him the privacy to pull away and hastily clamber back up to the edge of the bed.

For a moment no one said a word, the silence only broken by the sounds of breathing and cars on the nearby highway.

“Rich...”

“Oh god,” Richie interrupted. “You were dead Eddie…I saw you and you were fucking dead.”

There was another pause, followed by shuffling sounds as Eddie moved around in the floor.

“Hey, it’s alright I’m fine – I’m right here, see?”

“Eddie,” Richie croaked.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have my glasses on, I can’t see shit.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie take a break from driving to explore the town, they find an arcade, and with it all the memories attached.

“The Durham Arcade,” Eddie remarked, pointing across the street. “Looks like your kind of scene.”

Richie shielded his eyes and squinted in the direction that Eddie was pointing.

Just another nondescript brick building nestled between dozens of others; if it hadn’t been for the relatively new looking posters and flashing ‘open’ sign in the window, he would have assumed it was abandoned.

“Shit, I haven’t played video games in years.”

Eddie patted his back, “You’ve been busy though, telling other people’s jokes.”

“Fuck _you_, mighty mouse.”

“_Seriously_?”

The crosswalk began to countback from twenty, and Richie quickly mussed up Eddie’s hair before racing to the other side; giving only a casual glance back over his shoulder to make sure the other man was following.

It was a city of wide roads, tiny shops, and little places to sit and eat. There were a handful of tall buildings, as to be expected of most cityscapes nowadays, but the majority of the surrounding area was made up of parks and natural spaces. Monotonous skyscrapers blocking out the sky, and filtering the sunlight, served no purpose here.

It was motherfucking _quaint_ in every sense of the word.

A bell jingled sharply from the door when opened, but it was immediately drowned out by the cacophony of sounds which exploded to life as the two men stepped inside the arcade.

They made their way through the crowd of noisy children, past the glowing screens and screeching racing games, across the neon patterned carpet, towards the row of machines in the back.

There was almost nothing about this place that could be considered similar to the simple game lobby of his childhood. Yet, Richie couldn’t help but swallow back a wave of nostalgia.

For one brief moment it was 1989 again; the smell of hot plastic and stale popcorn heavy in the air, and he and Eddie stood hip to hip, jostling for position as they repeatedly slammed the buttons. The memory of going round after round was far shorter than the time it actually took for them to win those top score positions so many years ago; but their names in the one and two spots were as clear as any picture.

Funny how events like that returned with such clarity when so many others did not. Richie could still see that wild look of victory plastered all over Eddie’s dumb face when he let him win.

“Loser buys dinner?”

“Yeah, but winner picks the place,” Eddie said, leaning down to drop quarters into the slot. “’I’m not eating anymore shitty drive through crap tonight.”

“Damn, it’s gonna break your little heart to know you’ll be buying us tacobell after this.”

“We’re swapping beds if you get tacobell again, I am NOT sleeping next to the bathroom.”

Richie laughed, then did his best to hide a shiver which passed through him when the familiar 8-bit score chimed out of the built-in speakers.

If he had been worried about not remembering the controls after all this time, Richie was pleasantly surprised to find that it came back as easily as the memories of the man pressing closer into his space.

“Hold on!” Eddie snapped. “Don’t attack me yet, let me figure out the controls –”

“Oops, too late!”

“Ugh! _Fucking asshole_!” Eddie shouted, stomping on Richie’s foot.

“You know the rules, Kaspbrak – _ouch_! You _dick_!” Richie knocked aggressively into him, too aggressively, and he had to grab Eddie before he fell ass backwards onto the floor.

The situation left them both laughing.

Eddie didn’t laugh like a man, he still giggled like a boy, and Richie loved it. Although, even legally fucking blind, Richie could still see that everything else about him was all man. Gone were the days of baby fat and knobby knees. Replaced now with lean muscle and a jaw line you could slice a goddamn apple with.

Something flashed just beneath the surface of Eddie’s lighthearted expression and Richie analyzed the sudden shift. It was too fleeting, the emotion quickly disappearing before he could identify it.

_He's so close I could..._

Richie realized he was still gripping Eddie by the arms and immediately let him go. “If you think you can just crack your head open and get out of paying for dinner –”

“You’re the one who shoved me!” Eddie exclaimed, “You knew you were gonna lose so you fuckin pushed me.”

“A likely story.”

“Uh, excuse me, gentlemen?”

Richie stopped trying to wrestle Eddie’s hand sanitizer away from him and turned, coming face to face with a young woman wearing a name badge.

“Yes?” They both said in unison; although Richie snorted afterwards because Eddie’s response had that ridiculous high-pitched tone it took on when he was startled.

“You’re both creating quite a disturbance back here and – and this is a family friendly business, so we need to ask that you leave.”

Richie frowned, then immediately elbowed Eddie in the side. “You’re scaring the kids, dipshit.”

“Me!?”

“I am deeply sorry, ma’am.” Richie lied, taking Eddie by the arm and marching him to the exit. “I really thought the new medication was working for him -”

“Wha? _Shut up_, Richie!”

~*~

Taco wrappers littered one side of the hotel room; giving off the distinct impression that a fight was fought and the tacos may have won. While the other side of the room remained untouched aside from the man peering out from under the covers of the second bed.

Richie stood in the middle of the room, brushing his teeth and humoring a tangent from Eddie concerning an article he read about the dangers of undercooked fast food.

“You can’t just go around putting anything that moves too slow to get away in your mouth.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie finished rinsing and padded back to his bed. “Your mom wasn’t saying that last night when I was fucking her.”

Eddie just stared back at him.

“She’s dead, you know that right? Like I know that no living woman would ever touch you but she’s been dead for a while so that’s just extra gross.”

Richie pulled the covers up, waiting until he was fully covered to strip his shirt off from underneath. “Touché, Eduardo.”

“You should see a doctor.” Eddie grumbled and rolled over, shutting off the light.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie enjoy another fancy dinner, post dessert chaos ensues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My girlfriend is visiting me from Canada this week, as such I may not get another chapter up until next weekend I'm afraid. I will try to get one up before then but I still wanted to let everyone know about a possible delay. Thanks for understanding!

“Alright Charlotte, you guys were awesome, thanks for coming out!” The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Just a few more minutes and he would be free. “Catch you later!”

He couldn’t stop thinking about him. That little shit had weaseled his way into his head and Richie hated it. He hated the fact that Eddie could mess with his mind this easily. He hated laying in bed at night wondering if he had feelings for him too.

It was such a pain in the ass.

Richie hurried off stage, tossing the mic at his manager.

“Hey – what’s the rush?”

“Sorry, Keith. My ride’s outside and I’ve got reservations.” Richie told him on his way towards the door.

“Okay, but don’t forget your staying post show in Saint Augustine for autographs!”

Richie flashed him a thumbs up and disappeared outside.

The car revved to life, headlights casting shadows on the side of the building.

“You _almost_ look cool sitting in here, like some kind of getaway driver,” Richie remarked, sliding in beside Eddie. “Almost.”

“Douchebag.”

_Aw, but you love me…don’t you?_

He had always liked Eddie, ever since they were kids. But there was no way he was going to say anything about it then, so why did he think that would change now? Why ruin a perfectly good friendship – Richie wasn’t in the market for rejection; so why risk giving away a piece of himself that Eddie didn’t want or need.

“There’s a clean shirt in the backseat,” Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I’m surprised the front row doesn’t bring masks.”

“See, there’s where you’re wrong,” Richie stripped out of his sweaty shirt and dangled it near Eddie’s head. “I’ve got it on good authority that my natural scent is incredibly sexy.”

Eddie swatted him away. “Who the fuck told you that? Your mom?”

“No, yours.”

Richie laughed and deflected a random empty cup hurled his way.

This was so damn easy; it always had been. And if this was all they ever were, he would try and be content. Even if it killed him a little inside. Because he was finally willing to admit to himself what he had known all along; he was in love with Eddie fucking Kaspbrak, and wanted to be with him, in whatever context that might be.

~*~

Everything about this place screamed _better book weeks in advance_, this was not the sort of restaurant you get a table on impulse.

“I feel like Leonardo DiCaprio is gonna come down that staircase and ask me to fucking dance.” Richie had said when they stepped inside.

“There’s more to life than fast food and bars.” Eddie mumbled, straightening his tie.

“You’re missing out, Spaghetti, we could be threading some ones into a strippers a – shit!”

Eddie elbowed him in the ribs and stepped forward to speak with the staff.

As it turned out Eddie knew the owner, an old college pal or some crap, Richie didn’t pry and regardless, here they were. Entire walls were made up of windows framed by long gaudy curtains, flowers sat on every table, and some skinny dude was playing a fucking piano in the corner; hell, there was even a goddamn lounge area full of those weird fancy couches that looked like they had been pulled straight from some kind of teen vampire movie.

By the end of the night they were seated on the restaurant terrace, which overlooked some sort of 24/7 hipster volleyball court, finishing a slice of pie – the best Richie thought he had ever tasted – that came served with fresh raspberries.

When the check came, as had been the case from before, Eddie quickly sent his card back with it.

“I realize you make bank telling other people to be afraid of stupid shit,” Richie said, pushing the empty plate back. “But I _am_ capable of buying my own food.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m a _risk analyst_, asshole.”

The waiter stopped by once more, handing off the card and wishing them a goodnight. 

“Besides,” Eddie said, rising to leave. “You paid for the rental.”

Richie didn’t argue, Eddie was right, he _had_ paid for the car. The occasional dinner was really the least he could do, right?

Right.

Then why did it make his face hot when Eddie ordered for them. Why did he even let that little prick order for him in the first place?

_He’s just fucking anal, he’s never had any control in his own life so he controls dumb shit, he’s always done that. I’m just humoring him. _

Richie was so caught up in his own head he almost didn’t hear the random guy shouting at him.

“Hey, Trashmouth!”

The man was dressed to the nines, he would have looked made for this sort of establishment if not for his blotchy red face and loosened tie.

“Uh,” Richie slowed down as the man approached, glass sloshing in hand. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Holy cow, this is so friggen amazing! I saw your show last year in Washington!”

“Wow, that’s uh…that’s great –”

“You’ve gotta come meet my friends, they are going to FREAK –”

Eddie glanced at Richie and gave him a look.

“You know, I’d love to but I have this thing and I’m running late, tell them I said hi and –”

The stranger grabbed Richie’s wrist, tugging him forward. “They – are – just – over – here.”

“What the fuck man, let go!” Richie pulled his arm away and started to leave only to be met with a face full of some nasty lemon-flavored vodka concoction.

Then, much to everyone’s surprise, Eddie’s fist collided with the stranger’s mouth, earning screams from the patrons.

“Holy shit, Eds!”

“Don’t – oh god my hand – don’t call me Eds,” Eddie ground out, pulling a napkin from his suit pocket to press onto his injured hand. “Do you have any idea the kinds of bacteria that could have been in that cup!?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it, but let’s save it for the car, huh?” Richie laughed, shoving Eddie ahead of him and out the front door.

~*~

“I still can’t believe you punched that guy,” Richie said, taping the bandage down; it was an innocuous enough cut, but he took his time doctoring it, and Eddie didn’t seem to mind. “I think I saw his tooth land in that lady’s wine glass.”

Eddie grimaced. “Oh gross.”

“Yeah, cause like at that point you have two options. Remove the tooth and drink the wine or –”

“_Shut up_, Richie.”

_-Knock Knock-_

Richie pushed his glasses back up. “Are we expecting anyone?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Eddie said.

Eddie shuffled cautiously up to the door and stared through the peephole.

“Richie, it’s the cops,” he whispered. “They must be here because I hit that guy.”

_-Knock Knock Knock –_

_“_What? Are you serious?” Richie asked, taking in Eddie’s wide-eyed expression. “How would they even track us from the restaurant?”

He approached the door and peered out.

Two men stood on the other side; it was hard to tell but Richie was like ninety percent certain those weren’t real cops. For one thing, the pair were jacked, like impossibly swol – or whatever fuck the kids were saying these days.

“I don’t think those guys are cops, Eddie.”

“They have badges, dipshit.”

“Yeah, on chains. How many cops have you seen dressed like that before, genius?”

“Ice-T dresses like that on Law & Order –”

“You can’t be serious right now.”

_ -KNOCK KNOCK-_

Eddie reached for the door handle. “We’ve gotta let them in, I’ll – I’ll just explain, it was self-defense.”

Before Richie could stop him, the door was opened and the men rushed inside; both shouting something about responding to a disturbance.

“Think we could see some identification?” Richie demanded.

In response a mace bottle was directed at Eddie; who screeched when silly string was blasted in his face.

That’s when the music started.

All Richie could figure was one of them had an iPod or something in their pocket, but he didn’t have time to dwell on why none of this made sense before it suddenly all made perfect sense.

The two men began to dance provocatively around them.

“Uh, guys…” Richie covered his mouth.

A shirt was flung at Eddie who had turned a deep shade of crimson and was standing perfectly still.

_They aren’t dinosaur’s you moron_

Richie cleared his throat. “Guys! I hate to put a damper on this,” he gestured to the duo. “Uh, performance, but you’ve got the wrong place.”

The music abruptly stopped.

“Is this room 313?” The shirtless man asked.

Eddie shook his head, still standing like a cardboard cutout. “213.”

“Oh, crap. Sorry fellas.”

Richie waved dismissively. “Nah, no worries. Have a great night.”

The door closed behind them, leaving Richie and Eddie in silence.

Richie immediately broke down; he was laughing so hard he couldn’t stop. His breath came in quick gasps and tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

“Stop smiling like that, you look like an idiot.” Eddie snapped, shoving past him to go wash the silly string off of his face.

“Oh c’mon, that was –” Richie hiccupped. “The funniest shit I think I have ever seen.”

“Did you hire them?”

Richie let out a deep breath and straightened his glasses. “What?”

“You heard me,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. “Did _you_ hire them?”

“They had the wrong fucking room, you heard them – or is that silly string clogging your ears?”

Eddie studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to speak.

“You’re telling me this wasn’t some elaborate fuckin prank to pick on me because I’m gay?”

It took a moment for Richie to respond; on one hand he was honored Eddie would immediately suspect him of orchestrating the chaos that had just ensued. But on the other he would be the last person to make fun of somebody for being gay.

_Gay? Since when?_

“We have been up each other’s asses this entire motherfucking trip, when the fuck was I supposed to have hired the damn strippers?”

Eddie’s expression fell. He chewed his lip and scrunched his brow. “Fair enough.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Richie crossed the room.

“Also, I didn’t know you were into dick,” he said, casually picking dried silly string out of Eddie’s hair.

“Honestly, after seeing your wife I figured exotic zoo animals were more your type.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie make a short pitstop, they find a shop full of fun stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to say thank you for everyone's patience while I was on vacation with my awesome g/f all last week! I know I was eager to keep the story moving forward and I'm sure ya'll were too. Second, thanks for everyone who comments and/or just enjoys the story. Its appreciated :)

The midday sun hovered just above the horizon, warm and inviting, signaling the end of another day.

Despite Eddie’s mass consumption of ultra-pure-thrice-filtered-magic-crystal-water, that may or may not have cost over six goddamn dollars a bottle, and the frequent stops associated with it, they had been making decent time.

So much so in fact, that on a whim Richie pulled the car over upon entering the next city, his eye on a cluster of nearby store fronts.

One building had his interest in particular, with its window front full of bright Hawaiian shirts.

Richie unbuckled his seatbelt, tossed a handful of candy into his mouth, and looked over at his companion.

Sunlight filtered through the passenger window, and Eddie’s eyes were brown, but not a shade that felt easy to describe. It was as if they were both brown and black at the same time, with gold seeping in at the edges. He blinked, his lashes naturally long and soft looking – almost feminine in comparison with the rest of his sharp features.

“Are you eating my milk duds?”

Richie continued to chew, allowing the car to lapse into silence.

“First of all,” he finally mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate. “I don’t appreciate the accusation.”

“That’s disgusting –”

“Yeah, they’re not my first choice,” Richie said, picking at his teeth. “I’m more of a _whoppers_ kind of guy –”

“I meant _you’re_ disgusting, asshole.” Eddie snapped, placing his hand squarely on Richie’s face and pushing him away.

Richie licked the other man’s palm; tasting sweat and hand sanitizer. “That says a lot about you –”

Eddie shrieked and snatched his hand away.

“What _the_ _fuck_ is that supposed to mean!?”

“Well, you invited yourself along on this little adventure,” Richie teased, rolling his eyes as Eddie rubbed a healthy dollop of Purell between his hands. “Are you seriously opening another bottle of that shit? It’s gotta be your third one this week –”

“Second.”

“Cause _that’s _normal.”

With a flash of his middle finger, Eddie climbed out of the car.

_Well if you insist…_

Richie joined him on the sidewalk.

“This doesn’t look like Florida.” Eddie said, his lips drawn into a thin line.

Heat licked at their faces and the concrete smoldered beneath their feet. The muggy air pressed in on them, and Richie remembered why he didn’t travel this far south.

“Ding-ding-ding, excellent detective work there, C-S-I Spaghetti. We’re still in Georgia.”

“Then why aren't we driving?”

“I need to stretch and my ass hurts like a bitch.”

A young couple quickly hurried past, not bothering to hide their look of disapproval.

“My ass hurts from sitting – just for clarification!” Richie shouted, earning a sharp elbow to his ribs.

Somewhere behind him now Eddie was ranting and rambling, in typical Eddie fashion, but Richie couldn’t understand half of it over the traffic on the highway.

“All my milk duds,”

“What –” Richie started, turning around.

“Then you park us in front of a fuckin porn store.”

The discreetly marked building stretched up two stories above them, its narrow windows intentionally blacked out with a material resembling dark craft paper. The neon words, _Adult Store_, blinked down at them in irregular intervals above the door frame.

Richie couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t know about you, but I can _always_ use more lube.”

“I am NOT going in there,” Eddie ground out, taking a step back from the front door. “The whole store is probably covered in semen!”

“I don’t remember you being worried about that when you took up residence on my couch…”

Eddie gagged.

“C’mon, Eds. Don’t be a pussy.”

“I bet you’ve never even _seen _a vagina.”

Richie leaned back, arms crossed lightly across his chest, considering him. “I’m looking at one right now.”

“Fuck _you_, man.”

~*~

The store was nearly empty of people, aside from a single acne riddled clerk, who only added to the off-putting atmosphere of brightly painted walls covered in psychedelic rabbit designs. It was as if a drug and sex fueled fever dream vomited all over the room.

Wall racks displayed every sex toy one could imagine, and some you couldn’t. And there was no shortage of lube or inspirational material on the surrounding cubes.

Richie followed Eddie to one corner of the room, playfully leaning over his shoulder to get a closer view of the collection of DVDs on the shelf.

“_Unsuspecting granny_ my ass. Likely story grandma, you kinky bitch.”

“Are you gonna be like this the whole trip?” Eddie demanded; his face upturned towards Richie’s.

Richie could smell the mint gum the other man was feverishly chewing. He pushed his glasses back up.

The front door chimed and Richie hurriedly side-stepped away.

“Loosen up, you’re wound tighter than Sasha Grey’s assho –”

“_Gross_, please stop talking.” Eddie grimaced.

It was easily going on an hour since they had entered what Richie was affectionately calling the_ sin den, _and in that time, he had possibly looked at more heterosexual porn titles than ever before in his life.

Nothing against the straights, but _what the fuck_.

He had been hiding in the closet for so long he was surprised there wasn’t a clothes hanger stuck up his own ass. Sure, there was the occasional moment out and about, always the bar or club scene, but never close to home and never more than one night. Those were the rules.

Was it really fear of commitment and being open about who he was? Or had he been waiting for something or _someone_ else all along?

“Seriously?”

Richie met Eddie at the register, _Good Will Humping: Part Three_ and a box containing an inflatable doll in hand.

“Never been so serious in my life. This is _part three_, Edmundo, I _have_ to know how it all ends.”

“That’s not my name.” Eddie told a disinterested clerk who barely nodded in response.

Back in the car, they rode in comfortable silence. Past the silhouettes of buildings and through the sea of traffic lights all around. Within minutes, the interstate once again stretched on endlessly ahead of them. 

Even in the dark, sometimes, he thought he caught Eddie looking at him. Once or twice, he was sure the slight man relaxing in the passenger seat lingered too long when their hands brushed. Richie shook off those thoughts much in the same way he would the nagging urge to sleep.

But if Eddie were interested, he would have said something by now.

Right?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie's final Tour Date!

“Meet with the fans he said, it’ll sell more tickets he said. Fuck you, Keith.” Richie told the empty room, busying himself with his phone. He scrolled idly through a collection of shitposts, waiting for his manager to come back from break with the bourbon he had been promised.

The post-show event had been a success, there was no denying that, but two hours in and one break later, Richie could definitively say he’d had enough. Of course, that’s when Keith had started bribing him with the promise of alcohol.

Only twenty minutes into break number two he had concluded his aforementioned drink wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon.

Richie stared down at his phone and wondered if he had time to sneak away and grab a damn glass from the nearby dressing room.

It was at that moment a pair of individuals began to approach the booth and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

“– city’s getting’ full of comic fags –”

Richie snapped his head up. The speaker’s face was mostly obscured by an unkempt beard which hung down past the top of his shirt, his gait seemed jolted and he looked shitfaced. Accompanying him was a big guy with reddish hair wearing a tank top that had seen better times, he met Richie’s gaze with a blunt refusal to look away first.

_Where the fuck did Keith and that security guy go? There shouldn’t be anyone in here…_

“Heeeey, Trashmouth!” The men crooned.

A tight-lipped smile was all Richie could muster in response to the greeting.

“Saw you last night on St. George Street,” the one with the beard said, casually tossing a pair of tickets down onto the table. “Almost came over to say hi.”

Richie nodded, clicking his pen. “That’s cool, you uh want me to sign these or –”

“But we didn’t wanna interrupt –” the red-haired man added.

“Looked like you needed some privacy with your _friend_,” the other man chuckled. “You do realize nobody wants to see that shit –”

“Kinda sad to find out ole’ Trashmouth is a fairy –”

“And yet,” Richie interrupted gritting his teeth. “You still bought tickets.” He glanced towards the next room in reaction to the sound of a door slamming shut and voices. He pushed his glasses up and turned his attention back on the two assholes lurking in front of him.

The bearded man grinned, proudly displaying multiple missing and half rotted teeth.

_Guarantee this dude’s family would buy Eddie for breeding stock. _

‘Sleeveless’ leaned in closer. “Always knew you were a fucking faggot.”

“Takes one to know one, am I right?” Richie retorted, tapping the tickets with the tip of his pen. “Who would you and your lovely boyfriend like me to make this out to? The top or the bottom?”

A vein popped out on ‘sleeveless’s’ forehead and Richie braced himself.

Just as they lunged for one another, Keith and a rather stacked security guard came through the door, wrestling the pair of bigoted assholes off of him.

“Go fuck your mom, you inbred cock waffles!” Richie shouted, fighting against Keith who now held him back.

“Richie -buddy- calm down!”

The room was spinning. Thoughts raced through his head. He wanted them to slow down, to stop, so that he could breathe. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out some half-assed apology from his manager.

_I’m going to throw up. It’s too much – all of it. _

Keith let go of his arm when he started for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Meet ‘n greet’s over, man. I’ll see you next month in Chicago.”

Richie stumbled out the door; eyes wide in the sudden darkness.

“I hope they choke on a pork rind.” He said under his breath as he waited for a cab.

The taxi was warm and smelled like old clam strips, blaring music which he could only describe as ’two robots having angry, non-consensual, sex’; Needless to say, it did very little to settle his nerves.

He hated this city.

He hated those guys.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

** _SpaghEddie_ **

** _Missed Call (1)_ **

His standup wasn’t the only lie he was living and he hated that too.

_“Always knew you were a fucking faggot” _

Richie paid the driver and got out of the cab.

_Better that_, he thought,_ than a dumb bitch with half my goddamn teeth_

The old building was dimly lit and the air around it seemed to pulse from the sound within. He rested his hand on the door, watching the paint flake off onto the ground, and pushed.

The squeaky hinges were immediately drowned out by the solid wall of noise he was met with.

Loud voices competed with the music that was playing; dozens of conversations all fighting to be heard. Richie shoved his way through the crowd, mostly young adults – probably college kids, to order a drink. Bourbon, on the rocks.

Minutes turned into hours while the night slipped by, and Richie couldn’t say just how many times he had tapped on the bar for a refill.

_-Buzz-_

His eyes dropped to the lit phone on the counter.

** _SpaghEddie_ **

** _Missed Call (9)_ **

“Idiot,” he muttered, stopping to take a deep breath. He let out a sigh, swirled the drink in his glass, and listened to the clink of the ice cubes. The bourbon muted his thoughts; pleasantly numbing all the memories and feelings associated with the man who would not stop blowing up his fucking phone.

For now, it gave him an opportunity to just _be_ rather than think.

~*~

The screen on Richie’s phone told him it was 4:00AM. The angry man blocking his path to a bed and gesturing furiously told him it was actually 4:02.

“Where the HELL have you been?”

“Um,” Richie side stepped him, tripped, grabbed a table lamp, and fell to his knees with a thud. “Th-the _bar_?”

To say Eddie was fuming would have been an understatement. For a moment Richie considered he might need the lamp he was holding to defend himself.

“Bullshit! I’ve been calling you –”

“Didn’t think I had to check in – _mom_.”

Richie staggered to his feet and placed the lamp back on the table. It wobbled once, twice, and fell to the floor again. He stared down at it with mild interest.

“How did you get back? I mean you seriously didn’t drive, did you?!”

“Huh? No, calm – ugh,” the room felt like it was tilting and threatened to tip Richie back into the floor. “I couldn’t catch a cab back so I jus’ fucking walked.”

“Oh, oh you just _fucking _walked, is that right?” Eddie’s eyes looked like they might just pop out of his skull.

Richie didn’t respond, choosing to hang onto the back of a chair and toe his shoes off.

“You do realize, statistically, how likely you were to – to fall off a bridge! Or get fuckin mugged or murdered!”

A beat passed.

“Or mugged AND murdered!”

“You finished?” Richie slurred, taking an unsteady step backwards towards the bed.

Without waiting for a response, he collapsed backwards, letting the mattress and fog in his brain absorb him.

He could still hear Eddie, pacing the room and rambling on about potential alcohol poisoning, or something.

“That’s _my_ bed, asshole!”

It was the last thing Richie heard before sleep took him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie went MIA on Eddie after an incident with some homophobic "fans". Eddie wants answers and Richie needs to get crap off his chest...at least some of it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I am back and excited to be finishing up this fic. I really apologize for also going MIA, but I was successful in getting the new job and that required me to move out of state and get settled. 
> 
> So what I'm saying is, thanks for sticking it out and all the kind words of encouragement after my update - enjoy Chapter 10! :)

The room was still and bright, and warmer than he was used to. Richie slowly opened his eyes, disoriented but grateful that the hotels’ thick curtains were blocking out most of the sun.

Judging by the pounding in his head, sour taste in his mouth, and the fact that he was still dressed from yesterday, he could only assume he had been tossing them back last night.

_What the fuck happened?_

He groaned and squeezed his eyes back shut. What little light filtered through the covered window was too much. Even the simple act of digging his fingers into his temple was proving difficult when the bed felt like it was pitching about in the goddamn ocean.

Slowly the events of the night before came back to him; a screaming crowd, the smell of bourbon, slurred comments and rotten teeth. No one, himself included, would disagree that alcohol was one of his vices, but he hadn’t gone on a bender like that in months.

_I’m way too old for this shit _

Deep, even breaths followed by a soft snore interrupted his thoughts, and what had originally been mistaken for a large mound of blankets shifted, slotting itself tightly against his side.

With a start, Richie snatched his glasses off the nightstand, giving little thought to how they got there in the first place. He raised himself up on his elbows and stared blearily down at the intruder, willing his eyes to focus on the mop of black hair which was managing to burrow itself even deeper into the comforter.

Richie’s stomach gave a little flip and he found himself suddenly, inexplicably, nervous. “Eds?” he stage whispered, prodding the nondescript shape.

An incomprehensible mumble issued out from the cocoon.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The rising pitch of the small alarm clock jarred Richie to action and he reached across the bed to smash the snooze button as hard as he possibly could.

Piercing brown eyes glared out from the pile of bedding. “Ugh. Get off of me, asshole.” Eddie snapped, his voice still thick with sleep.

Richie snorted, “What changed? You seemed happy enough to spoon just a second ago…”

“Figured the only way to keep you from throwing up and choking on your own vomit,” Eddie grumbled, sitting up fully, the comforter falling to his waist, revealing the usual gaudy silk pajama top, “was to sleep nearby.”

“How romantic.”

Eddie frowned, scooting towards the opposite side of the bed. “Your breath smells like shit.”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

_Promise? _

The lack of comeback only seemed to spur Eddie on, who seized the opportunity to launch into a tirade focused on the perils of alcoholism and _just how damn tired_ he was after waiting up all night for Richie to come back – or the police to come knocking.

Richie pushed the covers off and climbed out of bed, noticing an immediate and rather unpleasant sensation similar to that of stepping off of a tilt-o-whirl while suffering from a case of vertigo, “Eddie, fucking can it!” 

The other man’s smug sermon followed him as he shambled to the bathroom, his sallow, unkempt features reflected back at them both in the passing mirror.

~*~

The bathroom door swung open, and Richie stepped out, waving off the cloud of steam as though it had offended him somehow. A quick scan of the room confirmed he was alone, so he let the towel fall away from his waist, content to air dry while he rummaged for clothes.

As if on autopilot, Richie wandered around the room, careful to avoid letting his thoughts linger too long on the current whereabouts of his suddenly absent companion or the obvious lack of luggage aside from his own duffel bag.

Once dressed he made his way back to bed, that’s when he saw it, the glass of water and packet of alka-seltzer on the nightstand, a handwritten message scrawled across one of those ‘complimentary’ hotel notepads resting next to it all.

Richie eased himself down on the edge of the bed, clammy hands folded neatly in his lap while he considered the scribbled text, an echo of the headache from earlier hovered just behind his eyes. 

Sitting alone in the empty room, he contemplated trashing the notepad without reading it, grabbing the car keys – if the car was even still parked outside – and hitting the road.

The idea of starting his day with some sort of holier-than-thou goodbye from his childhood best friend, and constant crush, didn’t feel very appealing. But he had always been a glutton for punishment and deep down he knew that whatever was written on that slip of paper was a hundred percent his doing.

With a sigh, Richie took the note in hand and resignedly brought it into focus.

** _Hey asshole, _ **

** _Don’t panic, I’m picking up breakfast. _ **

** _When I get back - let’s talk._ **

As if on cue, the hotel door chirped and swung open, revealing Eddie struggling to carry in several grocery bags.

“I’m sorry,” Richie blurted out, caught off guard by the unexpected sting of tears threatening to fall. “I…I know it’s a little late to say I’m sorry but -”

Eddie pursed his lips and dropped the bags on the table with a loud thump, “After everything we’ve been through with,” he made several vague gestures with his hands, “you know, I’m not surprised that you have issues with alcohol –”

“Can you like shut up for just one second and let me finish?” Richie croaked, pulling his glasses off to run a hand over his face. “Last night…some shit happened and I just,” he cleared his throat, “I couldn’t handle it and when shit gets like that, I drink.”

“You’re an adult, Richie, whatever happened you need to man up and handle it like one.”

Richie could feel his face getting hot with anger, “Unbelievable! This isn’t like I drink to numb the pain of - of doing a shitty job of preparing my goddamn taxes!”

“Then tell me what the fuck actually happened!” Eddie smacked his hand irritably on the table.

They glared at each other for a minute, Richie stunned into momentary speechlessness. Finally, Eddie said, much softer than before, “I don’t know what’s going on with you…but if there’s something I can do to help?”

Richie opened his mouth, uncertain how to start, shut it, took a deep breath and tried again. The floodgates had been opened and it was all he could do to control the tremor in his voice as the details of the night before spilled out. 

“It hurt, Eds…it shouldn’t but it did,” Richie let out a shuddering sigh and looked up into the calm dark eyes of his friend who had moved to stand over him. “I guess what I'm tryin to say is, I’m gay too.”

With a small smile, Eddie crouched down to face him, “I’ve known that since we were ten years old.”

“Oh.”

“Thank you for telling me, Rich.” Eddie comforted, rubbing Richie’s shoulder with one hand before dropping a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste in his lap.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie finally make it to Mikes. They goof off but Mike seems distracted...

“You guys made it!”

An argument regarding Eddie’s seeming obsession with bad country pop ballads stopped midsentence and both men peered out from around the trunk of the car to see Mike heading towards them, his flip flops smacking exuberantly on the pavement.

Richie was the first one to react. “Hey Mike! Nice digs, man! Look at this fucking place!”

“Right? It’s amazing – really perfect, I can’t wait to show you both around!” Mike exclaimed, coming to a stop and pulling them both in for a hug.

Mike looked so much different now than he had back in Derry, and it wasn’t just the footwear, it was as if the weight of that goddamn place had finally been lifted; and Richie wondered if they didn’t all seem just a little bit lighter.

~*~

It turned out that Mike had not been exaggerating. The condo was _‘really perfect’_ and the surrounding view was nothing less than spectacular. 

After completing a tour that could rival something off one of those godawful HGTV programs, they made their way to a spacious balcony which was home to a larger than life wrought-iron flamingo wearing a straw hat.

_He sure has embraced Florida _

Richie approached the railing and whistled in appreciation. The water stretched on endlessly up ahead, and he knew that during peak season this beach would be more people than sand, with towels and chairs of every fucking color imaginable splattered across a clean canvas like an industrial paint shaker accident – or the morning after a wild night out drinking cocktails – but today it was relatively quiet.

A cursory glance of his phone told him there were still a few hours of daylight left, plenty of time for a dip, plenty of time to relax and not focus on driving or performing for a while, plenty of time…

“Mike, I dunno man, are you sure about this? What about hurricanes? Or flooding?” Eddie stared out at the waves, all big brown eyes, and an expression too somber to be taken seriously, and Richie loved him; the fucking idiot. Loved him more than he was truly willing to admit even to himself.

With a gentle laugh, Mike grabbed ahold of Eddie’s shoulders and pried him away from the rail.

”You know what, I hadn’t ever considered it, but would you mind glancing over my insurance policy while you’re here? It’d give me some peace of mind.”

Richie made zero effort to hide a snort of laughter when Mike gave him a pained look over his shoulder when Eddie wasn’t paying attention.

~*~

It was five in the afternoon, and Richie found himself waiting by the steps leading up to a boardwalk, enjoying the scrunch of sand beneath his feet.

Mike had politely declined an invitation to go swimming, quick with an excuse about ‘still recovering from a nasty sunburn’ and didn’t want to chance it.

Richie thought that sounded an awful lot like bullshit and he had half a mind to tell Mike so, but uncharacteristically he let the issue drop. If the man didn’t want to swim, he didn’t want to swim.

The sun was beginning to really beat down, and after what seemed like an eternity of roasting, Eddie finally appeared. A long sleeved swim shirt clung to his small frame and the shorts he was wearing would give the ones from their youth a run for their money.

_Cute, cute, cute _

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“What?”

“Last I checked we’re going swimming,” Richie said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Not deep sea diving.”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Richie stepped aside, motioning to the boardwalk entrance, “Right this way, Jacques Cousteau.”

“_Fuck_ you.”

“I sure hope there aren’t any sharks around because you look like a seal after lipo – ow!”

“My shirt provides UV protection!” Eddie stabbed his index finger into Richie’s side, punctuating his words when he marched past. “Do you even have any fuckin sunblock on?”

“Um duh, of course,” Richie lied.

They swam in the ocean, Richie joked that he should have inflated his blow up doll for the occasion, and Eddie stopped every hour on the dot to reapply sunscreen, because of course he did. The water was salty and cool, and their corner of the beach remained pleasantly uncrowded as the day wore on.

“Your face is getting red,” Eddie said suddenly.

“I was just thinking about your mom.”

Eddie’s features immediately twisted into a scowl, and Richie smiled sweetly; he would never get tired of winding him up.

Several minutes of bitching from ‘_Dr. Kaspbrak_’ later and Richie finally agreed to call it a day before his sunburn got any worse. 

The pair trudged out of the water and back up the beach, but Richie couldn't help but slow his stride just enough to admire the way the smaller man’s hair was ruffled by the breeze, or how little those shorts really left to the imagination. And at that train of thought, he pinched the shit out of himself.

~*~

-Knock Knock-

“Hey! You about done?”

Despite Richie’s shouting into the door, the off key singing persisted, and in fact seemed to increase an octave in response to the question.

Eddie had claimed dibs on the shower before they even made it back to the condo, and due to the sacred nature of the word, there was nothing Richie could do but wait his turn.

Still, the other man’s high pitched voice was echoing out into bedroom where he was waiting and it sounded like somebody was killing a goddamn cat in there.

They had run into Mike briefly in the parking lot, he was headed to pick up dinner and ‘_rita fixings_’. Which Richie had admittedly been excited to hear. However, he was beginning to wonder what store Mike even shopped at cause their friend still hadn’t returned and it was going on an hour now.

Before he could ponder Mike’s whereabouts any further, the singing stopped abruptly and Eddie finally emerged, cheeks pink from the heat of the water.

“What’d you do with all that money?”

Eddie paused outside of the bathroom and made a face at Richie, “What’re you talking about? What money?”

“The money your mom gave you for singing lessons.”

Narrowed eyes were the only response given before Eddie turned and stalked off.

“Guess I’ll just go fuck myself then,” Richie teased.

When the final remnants of soap were washed away, Richie cut the water off and exited the shower, toweling off as best he could in the thick cloud of steam.

A burst of laughter resounded from somewhere else in the condo and he squinted back at himself from the fogged up mirror.

Mike hadn’t mentioned anything about guests…

Once dressed, Richie wandered into the main room and –

“Richie!”

The entire Losers Club stood mingling about the space, their respective margaritas raised in greetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading and has been following along through this journey, we are almost to the end, which is sad but exciting. Who doesn't love closure?
> 
> Also, for anyone frustrated on just how much of a "slow burn" this has become...I apologize, but my mom is actually really enjoying following this story and for her sake I am keeping the chapters more PG in the sexy time department than I usually would - however, hang tight for chapter 13 ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie reminisces about their time spent with Mike and the other Losers while he and Eddie drive back up the coast. Richie has some decisions to make and it's now or never.

The party had been fun. Honestly, a hell of a surprise, and it still brought a goofy smile to Richie's face to think about it, even four days later.

A great idea concocted by Mike, the fucking sap, who had apparently reached out to Beverly and Ben, who then acted as co-conspirators in a plot to arrange a Losers Club reunion when they heard he and Eddie were driving down to visit.

Noisy, crude, with a shit ton of snacks and even more generous amounts of booze, Richie had joked and laughed along with everyone throughout night, more than happy to let loose and decompress with his friends outside of Derry and the confines of _that_ nightmare.

To be fair, they all deserved this; an opportunity to make new memories together post _IT_.

But calling it a nightmare felt like it undermined the seriousness of the events; hell they almost lost Stan, thank fuck for Patty’s wicked first aid skills, Eddie got stabbed in the motherf’ing face, and he…who fucking knew what effect those goddamn lights would have on him in the long run.

So they had a party, to celebrate Eddie’s divorce, and Richie’s comedy tour, and Stan being alive, and really all of them not having been eaten by the damn clown.

Eddie’s snore cut his wandering thoughts short. He should be grateful, shouldn’t he? He had everything a man his age could ask for, right?

Then why was the only thing he could focus on in the shit storm that were his thoughts the slender figure currently reclined in the passenger seat, the warmth of that body radiating through multiple blankets and seeping into Richie’s right arm where it rested on the center console.

Maybe it was just a result of spending so much fucking time together, Richie rationalized that he had never spent this many days one on one with someone in years. 

Sure, he loved Eddie, he supposed he owned himself that much admission. But you could love someone and still carry on in your day to day. 

A cursory glance in the rearview mirror confirmed that it had been a long ass time since he was teenager; he needed to get it together.

Still, things were just so easy with Eddie.

The man passed out in the seat next to him noisily exhaled a spit bubble, Richie made a face.

Okay maybe not _easy_, but it definitely felt right.

The night before, Mike had invited Richie out onto the balcony where the two men stood side by side watching the horizon swallow up the sun, it’s fading rays stained the water a color that Eddie would have probably called something stupid like _apricot_.

Eventually the conversation began to flow, with Mike insisting they had to come back again sometime soon and go paddle boarding. Richie had laughed out loud at the mental image.

Eddie had stopped briefly in the open doorway to explain the potential hazards of condominium balconies at night. 

Richie had told him he was _‘doing god’s work’_ which earned him a rather rude gesture in response.

_“You guys never change.” _Mike had chuckled.

Richie glanced back at the empty doorway._ “Some things never do.” _

_"You can’t spend your whole life avoiding risks, Rich." _Mike told him with a smile, and at that he had walked back inside, leaving Richie alone with his thoughts.

~*~

They had stopped over only once, determined to make it back to Buffalo in under two days’ time, both men took turns driving and napping as the hours wore on.

But after twenty something hours on the interstate, several rounds of arguing about short cuts, Eddie grabbing the ‘_oh shit_’ handle every time they passed a semi, and a lack of agreeance on music, Richie was more than relieved to be in the final stretch.

An innocuous enough _ping_ resounded in the car and Eddie jolted up in his seat as though something had bit him on the ass.

Richie glanced in his direction, still mindful to keep the car on the road, but curious what all the fuss was about as the other man fumbled for his phone.

Several seconds ticked by in a rather noticeable silence before Eddie announced, “I’ve got an interview with the local firm next week!”

“Oh, cool.”

“Very, this is my first choice company, I’ve done a lot of research on their clientele and had the opportunity to review their benefits packages and –”

Eddie was rambling now, just chattering away in that excitable fashion which, depending on the context, Richie either found incredibly endearing _or _was tempted to smother him with a pillow.

“– I’ll speak with a realtor on Monday to discuss apartments…”

“Yeah?” Richie feigned a cough to distract from the disappointment in his voice, “That’s great, Eds. I was starting to wonder if I was going to need to charge you rent.”

Eddie snorted in derision, but went back to playing on his phone.

_He didn’t correct me for calling him ‘Eds’_

Richie smiled.

~*~

It didn’t take long to wind their way back through the busy streets and get parked. Richie would take the rental back tomorrow. For now, he just wanted to get inside, take a shower, and collapse.

Eddie was still babbling on about the logistics of moving and the sorts of weird parameters that had to be met by potential apartment complexes before he would even consider renting there; like the distance from his unit to the nearest fire escape, or the buildings wind speed rating.

Because Eddie was super fucking weird.

And Richie was madly in love with him, goddammit.

Nearly everything had been carried inside and now Richie was trying to gather up all the napkins and packets of wet wipes from any and every cubby in the car.

“Where are these coming from!?” he shouted to no one in particular, fully aware of where they came from.

He was actively avoiding going back inside. Fearful, that when he did, he might say something they would both regret, but he also couldn’t live in the parking garage…or could he?

Richie shook his head and sighed. Gathering up the packaged blow up doll, who he had christened _Sonia_, he made his way back to the elevator and his apartment, only pausing once outside the door to waggle the parcel at his horrified neighbor before he stepped inside and tossed Sonia onto the couch.

_Later, sweetheart _

It had only taken a few minutes alone for Eddie to upend his living room, suitcases were open and clothes were being neatly folded but piled everywhere and Richie had to step over and around several stacks to even get through the doorway.

But that was an argument for later. If there was one.

“Eddie,”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to leave” Richie whispered so quietly he was immediately unsure he hadn’t just said it in his own head.

The other man stopped sorting clothes.

“Um…I just wanted you to know…that you don’t have to leave.” Richie cleared his throat nervously, certain the look he was now receiving from his friend screamed _you’ve crossed a line_.

Eddie stepped forward, crossing the room quickly in what Richie assumed was an attempt to fucking escape, but stopped short to press into his personal space, placing one hand on Richie’s arm and the other reaching with the seeming intent of wrapping around the back of his neck.

Richie tried to lean back, away from Eddie’s sudden invasion, but he was trapped by the wall behind his back. “What are you doing?” his voice had an edge of hopeful expectation that made him inwardly cringe, “Eds?”

“Trying something, just go with it.” Eddie leaned forward and pulled Richie down to meet him, his fingers tugging on the curly dark hair at the base of the taller man’s neck. Eddie twisted his head and caught Richie’s half-open mouth with his own.

Richie made a high-pitched sound in his throat that he would later deny, but Eddie only deepened the kiss, and as the contact continued Richie fell into step with the motion of their lips, his eyes sliding shut in the moment.

Then, as suddenly as he had started it, Eddie broke away and stared smugly back up at him.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Richie blurted out, squinting through a pair of fogged up lenses.

Eddie merely rolled his eyes, “Because you’re a dumbass.”

“Well fuck you.”

“Fuck _you_, bro.”

_Forget what Father Brennan said_

_We were not born in sin_

_Leave a note on your bed_

_Let your mother know you’re safe_

_And by the time she wakes_

_We’ll have driven through the state_

_We’ll have driven through the night_

_Baby come on_

** _Sleep on the Floor_ **

_**The Lumineers** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official ending of the fic, chapter 13 will be an epilogue for all that stuff I can't have my mom reading lmfao.
> 
> I just want to say thanks to everyone who has stuck around, this has been a hell of a journey and I really can't thank you enough for joining me on it. Leave a comment if you have the time, I do enjoy hearing from everyone and try to respond to each one :)


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